Courting the Guardian
by NetRaptor
Summary: When Guardian Charon loses her ghost, loneliness drives her to work in the Ghost Spy Network office, overseeing unattached ghosts in the wild. But when a single ghost arrives to investigate her-and realizes that her spark is compatible with his own-does he risk courting a severed Guardian? Or will it break both their hearts?
1. Chapter 1

I'm your moon  
You're my moon  
We go round and round  
From out here, it's the rest of the world that looks so small  
Promise me  
You will always remember who you are

Who you were  
Long before  
They said you were  
No more

-I'm Your Moon, Jonathan Coulton

* * *

Charon was on patrol in the mountains of Earth when her ghost was killed.

It was a freak accident, to begin with. She was fighting the Vex, a civilization of robots with time travel capabilities. They weren't supposed to be on Earth, and she had been tasked with destroying them. A group of them had climbed a hill and were taking potshots at her as she climbed after them. Her heavy Titan armor blocked most of it, but the few bullets that did penetrate her flesh were immediately healed by her ghost, Simon.

Charon crested the hill and set about her with armored fists, breaking the robots to pieces. Laughing fiercely at the thrill of the fight, she whirled to face a Minotaur as it appeared out of nowhere. It was a huge robot with an energy shield. Charon sneered and raised her auto rifle.

The Minotaur stamped the ground. This released a shockwave that knocked her backward, sending her tumbling down the hill. The Minotaur stamped again and again, loosening rocks and earth, until an entire rock slide accompanied Charon down the hill.

Charon lost her grip on her rifle, lost her bearings, and thought only of surviving the rock slide. She rolled and scrambled, trying to veer across the slide - and crashed sideways into a tree trunk. The falling rocks pelted her, crushing her armor, breaking the bones beneath.

The rock slide slowed to a halt, dust rising in a haze across the mountainside. Charon groaned and pushed a mid-sized boulder off her legs. "Simon, that was insane."

The little star-shaped robot appeared beside her, his single eye-light wearing a sarcastic expression. "I'll say. I can't believe you didn't see that coming." He opened his shell and began to shine healing Light on her injuries.

"Well," Charon said, "I've never seen the Vex use the environment to-"

The Minotaur at the top of the hill fired a plasma bolt at Charon. Simon happened to be in exactly the wrong spot, and it hit his exposed core. He disintegrated in a burst of Light that punched Charon in the chest. His final scream echoed in her head.

She screamed, too - on and on until she had no breath left. Half her soul had been torn away in one single, violent explosion. Her Light had diminished. The friendly voice of Simon, her constant companion since her resurrection, was forever silenced.

She hurled a grenade at the Minotaur and didn't even look see the robot explode. She crawled on the ground, collecting every last fragment of Simon she could find. Maybe they could reassemble him. Maybe he wasn't completely lost. Maybe - maybe-

But his spark was gone. The soul-spark that had given him life, that had been his unique personality ... gone. Vanished forever.

Charon sat on the ground, holding the burned fragments in her hands, feeling the unhealed pain in her body and the gap in her soul. Slowly she raised a hand to the backup radio in her helmet. "Tower, this is Charon. I've lost my ghost. Repeat, I've lost my ghost."

Immediately her dispatcher replied, "I'm so sorry, Charon! Can you return to your ship?"

"I think so," she said, climbing to her feet painfully. "I'm injured, and it's five kilometers."

"I'll route a nearby patrol in your direction," her dispatcher said, his voice full of concern. "Be careful. With no ghost ..."

"... I'm not a Guardian anymore," Charon said bitterly. "I know."

She grimly hiked through the rough, broken country, favoring her left hip and side, where her armor was the most crushed. The task ahead of her - surviving the trip back to her ship without passing out from the pain - kept her focused. She couldn't think about the missing part of her, the life once bonded to her soul that was no longer there.

She'd crossed a quarter of the distance, and was resting against a tree before venturing down a steep slope to cross a river, when a Hunter flew up on a sparrow. "Charon? Need a lift?"

"Thanks," she gasped, and climbed on the back of the hovering craft.

The Hunter didn't ask any questions, just flew her back to her ship. Charon was in too much pain to talk, anyway. This was a new experience - Simon had always kept her healed. Prolonged pain was unfamiliar and unwelcome.

Once in the privacy of her ship, she set her autopilot for the Last City. Then she pulled off her helmet, covered her face in both hands, and wept.

* * *

Guardians didn't lose their ghosts very often, but it did happen. Charon was reassigned to Tower duty and City patrols, once she was released from the hospital. She still had her Light powers, but with no ghost for healing and resurrection, she was little more than a glorified human.

She walked the City streets at night in her armor, accompanied by two other Titans who laughed and joked with each other. Charon felt as distant from them as the outer reaches of Neptune, especially when they casually summoned their ghosts. Even seeing a ghost, with their cheerful eye-lights and brightly-colored shells, made her entire being ache.

Her apartment was even worse. Charon had a nice, mid-sized apartment halfway up the City wall. Simon had a little bed beside hers, with a soft, satin cushion for him to sleep on. Now it stood empty. Every night, she fell asleep gazing at that cushion, at the silent void it represented.

Sometimes she would go out on the wall, where nobody would hear, and shouted at the Traveler. The great orb hung in the sky above the Last City, cracked and damaged from the Red War. If it heard her rage and pain, her begging to give Simon back, it made no sign. It probably couldn't hear her without a ghost, anyway.

The days became weeks, and then months. The seasons cycled from summer to winter and back again.

Charon's anger died down to a low-level grief that she carried everywhere. Every so often it flared up, especially when she thought of something that would have made Simon laugh, or something she wanted to show him. It was like trying to move an amputated limb and discovering over and over that it wasn't there.

She kept up with her physical fitness regimen, reported to her Titan trainer once a week, and kept in practice with the latest weapons. She fought in skirmishes against the Fallen and discovered just how badly arc bolts hurt with no ghost to heal the wound.

At first, she spent a lot of time with the Tower psychotherapist. Guardians who lost their ghosts had a tendency to go off the deep end, abandon the Vanguard, and seek the Darkness. The therapist worked hard to keep Charon sane, even when such dark thoughts occurred to her.

But after a year, Charon grew a little more stable and didn't need as much therapy. She wistfully watched other Guardians and their ghosts, remembering the feel of Simon's slight weight against her palms. It was off-limits to touch another Guardian's ghost, of course. But she missed ghosts, their irrepressible cheer, their optimism, the way they moved their shells and eyes to express feelings.

So one day, Charon found her way to the ghost observation network office.

The Tower maintained a spy network of unattached ghosts. As these ghosts wandered the wilds, seeking their Guardians, they accumulated valuable map data that the Tower was eager to use. So much data about Earth had been lost, and this was one way to recover it.

The office was a tiny room with two walls stacked in computer and radio equipment. An older human named Matilda worked there, her hair pulled back in a severe bun. She glared at Charon over her half-moon glasses. "Yes? Do you need something?"

Charon stood there in her civilian clothing, suddenly missing the security of her armor. Without it, she looked too feminine to be a Titan, with her rounded cheeks, her sleek black hair, and her slanted eyes that spoke of Asian ancestors. "Yes, I ... I wondered if you had any need of an assistant."

Matilda gave a sarcastic laugh. "Of course I do. I need a hundred assistants. But there's no room in here, and no budget to pay you."

"I'd work for free," Charon said. "I just ..."

Matilda looked her up and down. "You're a Guardian. You should be out blowing up aliens instead of being stuck indoors."

"I lost my ghost," Charon said in a small voice.

"Oh." Matilda stared at her for a long moment. Then she looked at her computer screen and the ghost chatter scrolling across it. "Ohh." She swiveled her chair toward Charon. "Honey, this isn't a good way to cope. You won't find another ghost out there."

"I'm not looking for another ghost," Charon said. "I just ... miss ghosts in general. I wanted to try working with them."

Matilda studied her, the gears in her head turning. "I'll take you on for a week's trial. Bring a chair. A small one."

Charon smiled for what felt like the first time in months. "Thank you!"

* * *

The unattached ghosts knew Matilda well, and had many unflattering but affectionate names they called her. But when Charon came along, the entire network was curious about her.

"The old witch got an assistant?" one ghost said to his brothers. "What'd she do, kidnap her?"

"I heard this Charon lost her ghost," another ghost replied. "I was on the line with McNasty when she first hired her."

The network hummed with this gossip. A Guardian with no ghost working with unattached ghosts? It smacked of a dating service. Speculation provided endless amusement for the ghost community.

"But it's impossible for a severed Guardian to bond to a second ghost," another ghost pointed out. "It's not like there's any possibility of someone getting together with her."

"Just because it's never happened before doesn't mean it's impossible," laughed another.

"It _can't_ happen," insisted yet another. "The soul fusion can only work once. I'll bet if you were to look at this Charon, her spark would be a lot of ragged pieces. There'd be nothing left to bond to."

"I dare someone to go check," chuckled another ghost. "Get the real scoop. How do we know what names to call her, otherwise?"

The ghosts laughed.

"I'll do it!" one of the ghosts chimed in. "I haven't been to the Tower in ages, and I'm near by. I'll help solve the riddle of this Charon."

"And find out how her ghost died!" someone else called. "Guardians lose ghosts in the weirdest ways."

"Don't be tacky," said the other. "Do you know how horribly rude that would be?"

"I was just curious," grumbled the first.

* * *

This was how, after Charon had officially been given the position of Assistant to the Ghost Network Manager, a ghost began following her around the Tower.

He was crafty about it, so she didn't notice him for a few days. He always managed to find another Guardian to float next to, blending in with the other ghosts who flew around the Tower.

But one morning, she opened her apartment door with a little too much force and smacked a ghost out of the air with it.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, kneeling over the ghost as he lay groaning on the hallway floor. "Who do you belong to?" The hallway was empty.

"Oh, I'll be in so much trouble," Charon muttered. She reached out to pick him up, but hesitated and pulled her hands away. Never touch another Guardian's ghost.

But after a moment, the ghost floated into the air, spinning his segments this way and that as if it helped him balance. "Don't worry about it," he told her. "I don't have a Guardian."

"You don't?" Charon stared at his blue eye, his basic shell with rain-stains across it. "Why are you here, then? You should be looking for your Guardian."

The ghost studied her for a long moment without speaking. Then he backed away a few inches and managed to look bashful. "Well ... the ghost network was curious about who was working with McNas - I mean Matilda. I came to scope you out."

By this time, Charon had spent enough time wading through network chatter to know just how much the ghosts gossiped among themselves. She spread her arms. "Here I am. Better be careful what you say about me, because I might see it in the logs."

"No, you won't, because - never mind," the ghost said.

She gave him a suspicious look. "Why were you hanging around my front door?"

His eye darted left and right. "It was nice meeting you, Charon. Goodbye!" He zipped up the hall and phased through the outer wall.

Charon climbed to her feet, holding back a laugh. Unattached ghosts had much less reserve than their bonded brethren. "I wonder what your name was, you little creep."


	2. Chapter 2: Phantom

The ghost floated outside the city wall in the sunlight, mentally wiping his forehead. "She almost had me, there. Have to be more careful."

He logged into the ghost network and drifted toward the top of the wall. "Reporting in, everybody," he announced. "I've spoken to Charon."

He instantly had the attention of the whole network.

"What's she like?"

"Why'd the battle-axe hire her?"

"How's her spark?"

"Did you ask how her ghost died?"

"I didn't get to ask anything," the ghost replied. "She hit me in the eye with a door."

The other ghosts burst into laughter.

"Maybe we should have sent somebody else."

"What kind of a stalker are you?"

"I'm not stalking her," the ghost protested. He reached the top of the wall, saw Charon walking toward the administration building, and quickly pretended to float beside a Hunter's left ear.

"Did you get a look at her spark?" another ghost repeated.

"I saw it," the ghost said, watching Charon's progress. He didn't want to talk about it, actually.

"Well?" the other ghosts pressed.

"Pretty shredded," the ghost admitted.

The network gave a collective sigh of disappointment.

The ghost flew carefully after Charon, darting from Guardian to Guardian. Several had their ghosts out, who glared at the stranger until he zipped away.

As she entered the administration building, the ghost flew through the door after her and lurked behind furniture and light fixtures until Charon entered the tiny ghost network office with Matilda.

"Ever see where McNasty works?" the ghost said. "It's a room the size of a dumpster. No wonder she's so cranky."

The other ghosts were instantly interested. "Really? Send pictures!"

The ghost snapped a few clandestine pictures of the office through the glass window in the door, trying to keep his glowing eye from being seen. While Charon was bent over a computer, hard at work, Matilda glanced up and saw him.

"Help! The battle-axe noticed!" he exclaimed. The network shrieked in delighted horror.

The ghost took a picture of Matilda as she advanced to the door. He wasn't frightened of her - getting caught was thrilling. This was way more fun than scanning skeleton after skeleton in a ruined town somewhere.

Matilda opened the door and glared at him over her glasses. "May I help you?" she said in a tone that said the opposite.

"No, I, I was only-"

Charon looked up. "Oh, he's an unattached ghost who's been snooping around. He was in my hallway this morning."

Matilda pointed a finger in the ghost's eye. "Your mission is to find your Guardian. Not lurk around the Tower. Understand?"

"Yes sir," the ghost said cheekily. He phased through the door, zipped down the hall, and hid just around the corner.

"Slippery little devil," Matilda muttered, closing the door.

The ghost laughed to himself for a moment. "Matilda is definitely McNasty, everyone. She just told me off."

This delighted the network.

Thinking of spying, the ghost roamed around the building, hiding behind various objects whenever someone happened by. Did this area have video cameras? It didn't seem to - the whole place had been thrown together hastily when they vacated the old Tower. But it did have communications routers.

The ghost located the routers on a shelf in a central room. He sneaked over the head of a technician working at a desk below, hid at the back of the shelf, and scanned the routers with a hacking beam.

Within moment, he had cracked the basic security level, stolen the passwords, and logged into Matilda's computer.

Her hard drive was filled with neatly filed ghost reports. While it would have been fascinating to anyone else, to the ghost it was a pile of old news. He rummaged around until he found a personnel file on Charon.

She was a Titan, he learned with surprise. A Titan with a long pedigree of successful strikes, Crucible wins, and victories over the Traveler's enemies. Her ghost had been named Simon. Her report said that he'd been killed by a long-distance shot from a Minotaur while Simon had been healing her.

The ghost's jubilant mood faded. This was real pain and loss, here. All those wins and accolades ... and now, desk job. Why had she chosen to work with the ghost network? She had to know that she'd never find another. He mused on this for a while. All he could come up with was that she must be very lonely.

"Everybody," he said on the network. "I found Charon's file."

His sober tone was like ice water to the network's cheerful mood.

He read it aloud, and thousands of ghosts listened in. By the time he finished, the ghosts were pouring a wave of sympathy in Charon's direction.

"She's a Titan?"

"Poor thing. Poor ghost!"

"I'll make sure to be very nice to her."

"Me too!"

"No funny nicknames, then?"

"None," the ghost insisted. "She seems to be a nice person. I wish I could have seen her in battle. I'll bet she was magnificent."

He sneaked back to the ghost network office and phased just outside, watching the women work. It was quite boring, really, but he studied Charon with increasing fascination.

Her spark resembled the injured Traveler - huge chunks torn loose or missing, bleeding Light from inside. But when she had laughed at him, a tiny piece had mended.

He also didn't want to mention that her spark sang a discordant melody to his heart. The possibility existed, however small, that he could bond with her. But her spark had to be intact, first, and it was so awfully damaged.

So, instead of leaving, the ghost grew ever more determined to stick to her like glue. She could - possibly - be his Guardian someday. But he had a lot of time ahead of him, trying to help mend her. She had lost her ghost only a year ago, and the pain was still fresh. He'd have to proceed very cautiously indeed.

* * *

When Charon left work that evening, she looked around for her stalker ghost. He was nowhere in sight, but that meant nothing. Ghosts were called ghosts for a reason, with their ability to disappear, or phase through solid objects.

She went to a spicy ramen shop in the Tower's tiny commercial district, secured herself a bowl and a glass of water, and sat at a tiny table in the shadows of the shop's overhang. From there, she watched the dinner crowd, looking for a ghost in a basic shell. Most ghosts here wore custom shells, so he should stand out.

Charon was halfway through her noodles when she spotted him. The ghost worked his way toward her in a roundabout way, stopping to pretend to be this Guardian's ghost, or that one. Charon never would have noticed him if she hadn't been watching.

"Simon," she thought, "I wish you could see this."

He was a few tables away when the stalker ghost glanced at her furtively. Charon waved. The ghost jumped, his eye light blinking rapidly in surprise. Then he sheepishly flew to her table and hovered across it from her.

"Nice job, phantom," Charon said. "I never would have noticed you if I hadn't been looking."

The ghost brightened. "Really? I was hoping you wouldn't. I mean, uh ..." He managed to look embarrassed.

"Why are you following me?" Charon asked.

"I'm not!" the ghost exclaimed.

"Yes, you are," Charon said, pointing at him with her spoon. "You were outside my door this morning. Then you tracked me to work. Now, here you are. What're you up to?"

The ghost shifted in midair, as if deciding whether to tell the whole truth or half. Finally he said, "I'm hoping you'll help me find my Guardian."

"Shouldn't you find a Guardian who, I don't know, can leave the Tower?" Charon said. "The farthest I can go are patrols outside the City walls."

"There's always a chance," the ghost said defensively. "I mean, I came here to find out who was working with McNasty, but then-"

Charon had been taking a drink of water, which she spewed across the table. "McNasty?" she gasped, laughing. "Matilda?"

The ghost darted to one side, but droplets still splattered him. He spun his segments to flick them off. "Ew!"

"Is that what you ghosts call her?"

The ghost nodded. "McNasty, old Battle Axe, you know. The usual."

Charon laughed and laughed. "How do you keep her from finding out?"

The ghost shifted his eye-light into a cartoony smile. "We don't send every conversation to the logs."

Charon calmed down, wiping her eyes. "What do you call me?"

"That's why I came here," the ghost said. "To find out who you were. But we like you. We've decided not to call you names."

"Aw." Charon grinned at him. "I'll call you Phantom because of your sneaking around. Don't get attached. Your real Guardian will probably call you something else."

"Phantom," said the ghost, deadpan. "You're calling me another word for ghost?"

"Sure, but sneakier," Charon said. "Like I said, don't get used to it."

The ghost flew in a circle above her table. Something about this agitated him. He looked at her over and over, seemed to shake his head, and kept circling.

"What's wrong?" Charon asked.

"I shouldn't," he said, his blue eye glowing in the shadows. "Accept a name from you. You're not my Guardian. This is ... super personal."

"So don't call yourself that," Charon said. "But I'm going to call you Phantom as long as you're lurking around."

"What if I stop lurking?" said the ghost. "What if I just follow you around honestly?"

"Pretend to be my ghost?" Charon said. "You could, you know. Losing a ghost isn't something I'm proud of, so not everybody knows. They'll think you're Simon."

The ghost hung in the air, staring at her. Then he said, very softly, "Wouldn't that make you sad?"

The amount of care in this question made Charon sit a little straighter. No ghost but Simon had ever cared about her feelings. "What did you say?"

"I said, wouldn't it make you sad if I impersonated your dead ghost?" Phantom said. "It seems ... wrong. I'm not him, and you might think of me as him, and then you'd remember I'm not ..."

"You're over-thinking it," Charon said, touched nonetheless. "I wouldn't mistake you for Simon. You sound nothing like him, for one thing. And I can't ..." She gestured from herself, to Phantom, and back. "I can't feel you."

Without the soul bond, they shared no connection, and he was powerless to heal or resurrect her.

Phantom looked down for a moment. "Maybe I can't really be your ghost," he said. "But I could be your friend."

Charon gazed at him, smiling a little, her lower lip wobbling. The kindness of this went straight to her heart. "I'd like to be friends."

* * *

Charon walked back to her apartment, and Phantom followed, floating over her shoulder.

Phantom! She had named him. Blast, what was he supposed to do now? Did she sense the delicate compatibility between their sparks?

He had made her laugh again. Many tiny shards had fused back into her spark, but the big cracks remained. The music of her soul was slightly less discordant. It frightened him a little. No ghost had ever courted a severed Guardian before. He had no idea what he was doing, or if her soul would ever heal enough to bond to.

And she had named him. His thoughts kept circling back to that staggering fact. Unattached ghosts didn't accept names from strangers - often they named themselves. But ... Phantom ... he liked it so much.

They reached her apartment door, and Charon unlocked it. "Come on," she said, holding it open.

Phantom hesitated. "Do you think I should? I'm not really your ghost."

"It'll be more comfortable than hanging around outside," Charon said. "Besides, I'll worry that you might be getting hurt."

 _Worry_? She might _worry_ about him? Surely she must know what that meant. Phantom entered her apartment and hung in the air, looking around. They had entered a tiny living room with a massive armor rack dominating one wall.

"You're a Titan?" Phantom said.

"I was," Charon said. "I can still wear the armor and fire weapons. But it's harder and harder to call on my super moves. I'm just ... a poser, I guess."

That was one of the huge cracks in her soul. Phantom saw it as Charon touched her armor wistfully.

"The super Light powers go through your ghost," he said softly. "We call on the Traveler for you."

She nodded. "I figured it was something like that. I lost so much when Simon died." She spoke lightly, but Phantom sensed her pain.

Charon changed into pajamas, then sat at a little table with a computer on it. Phantom flew around her apartment, examining her weapons rack, framed Crucible awards, and a set of delicate watercolor paintings of landscapes.

"Did you paint these?" Phantom asked.

Charon looked up. "Oh, yes. I paint a little in my spare time."

Phantom admired them. "They're very good. They're not all Earth, are they?"

"No," she said, "there's some beautiful vistas on the other planets. I had to try to capture them."

Phantom's crush on her grew a little stronger. A hopeless crush, because those cracks in her soul might take years to heal. Did any ghost ever spend weeks and years with their future Guardian before bonding? Most Guardians had to be resurrected first, and the spark bond was part of that.

Phantom realized he was flying in restless circles only when Charon looked up. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." He forced himself to hover in place and gave her a smile emote. "Just ... not used to being indoors, I guess."

"Well, relax. You're making me nervous."

Relax? When his future Guardian was right there, oblivious, her beautiful spark so damaged?

Phantom phased, so she couldn't see him pacing. He needed a sounding board on this one. So he connected to the Ghost Gossip Network, which ran parallel, and separate from, the official spy network.

"Hey everybody, checking in from spying on Charon."

The ghosts greeted him cheerfully. "How's it going?"

"Did the Battle Axe catch you again?"

"Well," said Phantom, "I ... I have a few problems. I need your advice."

The ghosts gave him their attention.

"First," he said, "uh, I don't know how to say this. I'll just spit it out. Charon named me Phantom."

The entire network erupted into exclamations and shouts.

"What!"

"You let her do it?"

"Is she your Guardian?"

"If she's not, don't accept the name, dummy!"

Phantom let the shouting die down. When they were ready to listen again, he said, "That's why I need advice. She's my Guardian ... but her spark is damaged."

Silence greeted this announcement.

"How do you know she's your Guardian?" one ghost asked.

"Her spark sings to me," Phantom said. "But it's all ... off-key. She's been healing a little, and it helps, but I can't bond until she's intact again."

Further silence.

"What do I do?" Phantom pressed. "I can't abandon her now that I've found her."

"Have you told her?" a ghost asked hesitantly.

"No," Phantom said. "She's still grieving her dead ghost. I can't just crash in and say, hey, I could be your new ghost! But you have to get over that chump who died."

The network muttered to each other, discussing the situation and possible courses of action. Phantom waited, watching Charon click through City headlines.

The ghost network chatter confirmed his thoughts. No ghost had ever been in a situation like his - it was backward of every other Guardian and Ghost. Not to mention that severed Guardians didn't usually get a second ghost. A lot of bonded ghosts joined the conversation, exclaiming about how strange it was.

One ghost told him, "Be kindness itself. Make yourself indispensable. A soul isn't mended overnight. Be patient and let her heal, and be her constant friend. One day, when the time is right, you'll both know."

Phantom sighed. "Thanks. That's good advice, even if it's not what I wanted to hear."

The ghost chatter continued, but Charon's voice cut across it. "My fire team's going on City border patrol tomorrow and they're asking if I'll go."

Phantom phased into sight, since this statement seemed directed at him. "Um, yes? Is that a good thing?"

Charon gazed at him, biting her lip. "I'm sure Matilda will let me off. That's no problem. But what do I do about you?"

Phantom blinked. "What about me?"

"Well ... you're not my ghost. I don't want to take you into danger."

"I'll stay phased," Phantom said cheerfully. "If anybody notices me, just tell them I'm following you in hopes of finding my Guardian. That's the truth, isn't it?"

"Yes," Charon said, stretching the word out. "But Ashton - a guy on my team - is very judgmental. He'll think I'm lugging you around as some kind of emotional prop."

"So what?" Phantom replied. "I'm following you and you can't get rid of me. Sounds like my problem, not yours."

She smiled. Traveler's Light, he was such a sucker for seeing her smile.

"You're a brat, Phantom." Charon swiveled back to her computer and began typing a reply to the fireteam query.

Phantom watched her type. How did she not feel this connection between them? Or, maybe she did feel it. She didn't want him hurt. Maybe such things weren't as obvious to Guardians as they were to ghosts.


	3. Chapter 3: Sparks

The next day, Charon lugged her sparrow out of the Tower by hand, since she didn't have a ghost to transmat it. Phantom thought he probably could have, but he didn't know how to offer.

They met her fireteam outside the City's nearest gate. There was Ashton, a burly hunter, and Sheen-6, an Exo warlock. Both were sitting on their sparrows, talking, with their ghosts out, when Charon rode up on her sparrow with Phantom floating beside her.

"Hey, Charon," they greeted her. Both of them stared at the strange ghost, and so did their ghosts.

"This is Phantom," Charon said. "He's an unattached ghost who's hoping I can lead him to his Guardian."

Ashton and Sheen relaxed.

"I thought you were going to say you'd found a new ghost," Ashton said. "I was about to be really skeptical."

"No, nothing like that," said Charon. She gripped the handlebars of her bike. "Where to?"

Sheen and Ashton took turns gesturing and pointing to various areas of the landscape. Apparently there had been an incursion of Fallen in the City's five-mile safe zone, and they were to show them to the borders. In a manner of speaking.

As the Guardians sped off in single file, their ghosts phased. The bonded ghosts rode along inside their Guardians' armor in immaterial form, but Phantom zipped along behind Charon.

Ashton's ghost said, "Pleased to meet you, Phantom. I hope you find your Guardian someday."

"Me too," Phantom replied. "It would make high speed travel easier, for one thing."

Sheen's ghost said, "Will you survive a firefight? Charon's vicious, and she'll drag you into the hottest fighting."

Phantom thrilled to hear this. "Oh, I do want to see her be vicious."

The other two ghosts sat in nonplussed silence for a moment. Then Ashton's ghost said, "You aren't bonded to her, are you?"

"Of course not," Phantom said. "Check my ID tag. Unbonded."

Sheen's ghost said slowly, "Then why do you act like she's yours?"

"I'm not!" Phantom retorted. "I've been following her a while, and I like her, that's all."

This conversation was cut short as the Guardians slowed to a halt, gesturing to a set of moving figures on a nearby hilltop. They climbed off their sparrows. Ashton and Sheen's ghosts transmatted their sparrows away in a fizzle of Light, but Charon hid hers behind a big rock.

Phantom quietly applied a transmat tag to it. He'd surprise Charon later by transmatting her sparrow to wherever they wound up after the Fallen were defeated.

Ashton said, "I'm detecting a swarm of hostiles behind that hill. Looks like they're establishing a forward base of operations. Charon, can you use your super?"

"Yes," she said, "but probably only once."

"Good enough," Ashton said. "I'm going to climb that tree, there. I'll snipe the captains. Sheen, void bomb the camp's center, then Charon, make your run. With luck, this fight won't last five minutes."

As the fireteam scattered, Charon whispered, "Phantom?"

"Yes?" he replied, emerging from phase in a swirl of Light.

She tapped her helmet. "No ghost, and I have no live map. Could you ... hack my HUD?"

Phantom laughed. "Nobody's ever asked me that before. Let's see."

He flew around her helmet, scanning the electronics. "The HUD is set to only allow a bonded ghost to access. Oh, I, this is embarrassing."

"What?"

"I'd have to use Simon's login."

Charon hesitated only a fraction of a second. "Do it. I can't do this fight blind."

Feeling like he was invading her privacy in the worst way, Phantom logged in, connecting his scanner to her HUD. He thought the hack was bad enough until he checked the ghost log. It was Simon's private notes from the fight when he had died. Phantom took one look and hastily closed it. It amounted to a very personal love letter.

Flustered, Phantom phased and followed close beside Charon as she circled the foot of the hill. Light, she looked so good in her armor. Black and silver, she had a slimmer profile than a male Titan, and moved smoothly, carrying the armor like a second skin.

And Simon had been crazy about her, too. Phantom wanted to sneak away in shame. What made him think he could ever love her the way her original ghost had done? His little crush was nothing to the way Simon's spark had burned for her.

The first gunshots echoed across the hillside as Ashton began sniping. Sheen crouched behind a tree, bobbing her head as if counting down. Then she bolted out of hiding, her warlock robes flying around her, and charged the Fallen encampment.

On Phantom's screen, the hostile dots went crazy, swarming like angry, alien ants.

Sheen's void bomb went off with an earthshaking concussion, throwing smoke and dust a hundred feet in the air.

"Our turn," Charon said, and bolted up the hill, carrying an auto rifle longer than her own arms. Phantom flew with her, trying to hold back a giggle of pure terror.

The Fallen encampment had once been a somewhat orderly assortment of scrap metal shelters, tools, and machinery. But the bomb had reduced it to a chaotic mess of twisted metal and dead aliens. The survivors were furious, pelting Ashton and Sheen with arc bolts. Charon charged the nearest group, firing as she ran. A wounded captain stepped out to bar her way. Charon twisted and rammed into him with her thickly-armored right shoulder. As the captain fell, she unloaded half a magazine into his chest. Another alien, charging with knives and jaws open, had its skull bashed in with one armored fist.

Phantom watched all this in awe. Snatches of Simon's log played through his mind.

 _As we crushed the Vex goblins, one punch at a time, I couldn't help but see her as poetry in motion ..._

An alien grabbed Charon from behind. She seized his arm, tossed him over her head in a Judo throw, and filled him with lead before he hit the ground.

 _My love, you fight with the grace and skill of a great cat, weaving among your attackers without taking a scratch ..._

They rounded a pile of debris and found the Fallen had regrouped and were charging Charon's position. Charon drew on her Light and summoned a fiery hammer, more fire licking over her armor. She tore into the aliens like they were made of paper.

 _My Guardian is a spectacular fighter, and every battle is a matter of pride to me. I heal her wounds and raise her when a misstep is made, and all the time, her spark sings the song of my own heart ..._

Because of the lack of a proper bond, Phantom had no idea Charon was wounded until he spotted a small stream of blood leaking down the side of her breastplate. He tried to heal her, but without the bond, he didn't know her body to the cellular level. He couldn't even tell where the injury was.

Charon leaped behind a collapsed shelter and knelt, favoring her right arm. "Phantom, can you heal me?"

"I'm trying," he said in growing panic. "But - but it's not working."

She coughed lightly. "No problem," she said, her voice raspy. "Ashton, Sheen, I'm hit. Mop up."

"Get out of there, Charon!" Ashton exclaimed. "You're ghostless. You die, you don't come back."

Charon started to stand, but grunted and sank to one knee again.

Phantom's mind raced. He couldn't heal her, but maybe he could help her escape.

"Can you ride a sparrow?"

She nodded and coughed again. Blood splattered the inside of her helmet.

Phantom's core turned to ice. "One sparrow, coming up!" He transmatted it from its hiding place. It appeared beside them in a shimmer of Light.

Charon mounted it, crouched low over the handlebars, and shot straight through the enemy camp. Scattered Fallen snarled and hissed, shooting at the escaping Guardian.

Charon tossed a grenade over one shoulder. The explosion silenced most of the remaining attackers.

"Heading back to the City," Charon panted. "Knife under my arm. Got my lung."

Ashton and Sheen both cursed.

"My healing rift's not the best," Sheen said. "Can you make it to the medical warlocks in the Tower?"

"Yes," Charon said.

"Don't die on us, Char," Ashton said. "We're coming as quick as we can."

Phantom flew in silence, phased, terrified. What if he had to watch his future Guardian die, her spark slowly fading? He couldn't face the thought.

Charon sped back to the City gates, barely managed to say the password, and rode to the Tower lift, beginning to shiver with shock. She pulled off her helmet and fell off her sparrow trying to climb into the lift. The guards, who had had a boring day up to this point, sprang from their posts to help her.

"Why doesn't your ghost heal you?" one demanded.

"No ghost," Charon gasped.

The guards exchanged a horrified look. "Medical ward," one said.

They lifted Charon back onto the sparrow and pushed the craft through the Tower like a makeshift gurney.

In the medical ward, the first doctor took one look at Charon and said, "Idiot Titans." He threw down a warlock healing rift. Light blazed from a circle on the floor. The doctor and guards lowered her into it. Charon lay on her back, shivering and coughing, as the doctors unstrapped her armor. Little by little, the healing rift mended her wound, and her breathing grew easier.

Phantom hung back from the bustle, phased, helpless and ashamed. He hadn't been able to heal her. She'd needed his help and all he'd been able to do was give her the sparrow. Her first ghost had been so capable, and Phantom was ... just useless.

They moved Charon to a hospital room for observation, hooking her up to machines and an IV. Ashton and Sheen arrived. After they were reassured that their friend would survive, they laughed and joked about the battle, making it sound like great fun.

After a while, they left, and Charon was alone in her room. She looked around at the walls. "Phantom, are you still with me?"

He phased into sight at the foot of her bed. His shell was pulled down in an expression of sadness.

"Hey," she said, holding out one hand. "Come here. What's wrong?"

Phantom flew to hover over her hand - like he was her ghost, and not a faker who supposed he had a shot at happiness. "I couldn't heal you."

"No," Charon said softly. "It was unfair of me to ask. I'm sorry."

"I tried!" he burst out. "I saw you bleeding and I tried! And I ... I couldn't. Then you were coughing up blood, and I thought-"

"Shh." She raised her other hand, as if about to stroke his shell, but lowered it again. "You gave me my sparrow, and that was brilliant. I didn't know you could transmat things for me."

Phantom nodded. "I only have to tag them. I was going to surprise you with it later."

"You saved my life," Charon said. "I don't know any unbonded ghosts who can say that."

Phantom gazed at her, at her spark with the cracks running through it, and almost told her that she was his Guardian. But he couldn't quite do it. Perhaps it was the memory of Simon's adoration. Instead, he said, "You're a wonderful fighter."

Charon smiled. "You ghosts always do admire that."

"I'm serious," Phantom said. "You use your body and gun as duel weapons. It's like a ballet."

"I'm a Titan," she said simply. "It's our fighting style." She lay back against the pillow with a sigh. "They want to keep me overnight, and I'm already so bored. Do you think you could transmat my watercolor tablet and paints?" She told him where they were in her apartment.

"Will do!" Phantom exclaimed, cheering up. "Give me a few minutes."

He zipped upstairs to her apartment, phasing through walls. At least he could do this small thing for her. And then he'd get to watch her paint, which sounded like pure magic.

Her paint was in the drawer she had told him about, but the tablet wasn't. Phantom hunted through her apartment, checking drawers and cabinets. He finally found it on the table in her bedroom, under a pile of old mail.

That was when he spotted the ghost bed beside hers.

Phantom stared at it, fresh grief creeping through his core. She had kept Simon's bed. She'd lost her ghost more than a year ago, and she had left his bed where it was.

"Stupid," Phantom muttered, bashing himself into a wall. "What makes you think you have a chance? She doesn't want a new ghost. She wants Simon back."

He tagged the tablet and slowly flew back downstairs to the medical ward, not bothering to phase through the walls this time. As he gloomily entered Charon's room, she instantly noticed his change of mood. "What's wrong? Couldn't find it?"

"No, I found everything," he said, trying to sound upbeat. "Here you go." He transmatted her tablet, brushes, and paintbox into her lap.

"Excellent!" Charon said. "You're a lifesaver, Phantom." She grabbed the glass of water beside her bed, dampened her brushes and paints, and set to work.

Despite his despondency, Phantom watched her paint, and slowly, wonder filled him. Her brush flowed over the paper, roughing in mountains, trees, and the Traveler in the sky. All of it appeared out of nothing, produced from Charon's mind.

Phantom snapped pictures as she worked, and compared earlier stages to later ones. "How do you know how to put those lines there?" he asked. "They really do look like leaves on the tree."

"Oh well, you know," Charon said, a little pink rising in her cheeks. "When you've been alive for a century and a half, you have time to learn to do things. I've had lots of great teachers."

Phantom ventured, "Is it too forward to say I think you're wonderful?"

She beamed at him. "Not at all. I think you're wonderful, too. Sometimes I wish ... oh, never mind."

 _Wished what?_ he wondered. _That he could be her ghost? Or that Simon could have met him?_

Simon would have run Phantom off, Phantom knew that without a doubt. A ghost so deeply attached to his Guardian never let other ghosts within shouting distance.

 _She's not mine_ , Phantom thought wistfully, watching Charon set the painting aside and begin another. _She could be, someday. Light, this is hard._

To his surprise, this time Charon painted a picture of a ghost. Even though she worked in orange and blue, the ghost somehow looked white, especially as she added a deep blue background sprinkled with stars.

"Who is that?" he asked.

"It's you, silly," Charon said. "Simon hated for me to paint him. He said he looked too generic."

Phantom flew around the room several times, his sudden joy combining with his low spirits to make him very anxious, indeed.

Charon thought he was happy, and laughed. "Don't tell me you don't like it, either."

Phantom flew back to hover over her shoulder. "I do! I do! I've never had a picture before. But I ... I honestly don't ... you're not my Guardian, and you're giving me a gift?"

"Ohh." Charon gazed at the picture in sudden realization. "I'm sorry. I guess I keep thinking of you as my ghost."

Her ghost. She already thought of him as hers. Phantom wanted to scream - in joy or frustration, he didn't know which. He quivered a little in midair, holding it in. "I think ... I need some fresh air." He phased and darted away through the walls. When he reached the privacy of the outdoors, he did scream. A lot.

She wanted him. Despite her attachment to Simon, she'd already mentally accepted Phantom as her ghost. No wonder she'd asked for healing - she'd forgotten he wasn't hers.

Phantom flew in circles. He couldn't bond to her, not with her spark still cracked. He wanted to go back and pour out his heart to her right now, but it wasn't time yet. He thought of asking the ghost network for advice, but they'd only laugh at him, and he wasn't in the mood for that.

She'd painted a picture of him. Just for him. The generosity of this stunned him whenever he thought of it. Nobody made gifts for unattached ghosts. Nobody named them, either.

He crept back into the Tower, almost afraid to see Charon again. He peeked into her room in phase. She had set his picture aside to dry, and was hard at work on another - some planet with a lot of spires and pointed mountains.

He quietly phased into reality and returned to his spot over her shoulder, wondering how long it would take her to notice him.

Charon said nothing for a few minutes, concentrating on her painting. Then she said, "Back so soon?"

"Just needed to work some things out," he said. "It's hard to be ... just friends."

Charon looked up with a smile. "It is, isn't it? You want a Guardian, I want a ghost ... but it can't happen." She looked away, her smile fading. "Not for me."

"Hey." Phantom flew in front of her to make eye contact. "Listen to me. It's not hopeless."

Charon gazed at him. "What do you mean? Of course it is."

"The reason severed Guardians don't bond to a new ghost," Phantom said, "is because of the damage done to their spark when their ghost dies. Most Guardians spend the rest of their lives in shreds. But you ... your spark is healing. Someday, you may be able to bond to a new ghost."

Charon blinked at him, taking this in. "That's not what the therapist said."

What did a therapist know about things only ghosts knew? A flicker of anger rose in Phantom's heart. "What did your therapist say?"

"She said that the ghost bond is tied to our resurrection. The ghost who gave us life is the only one we can ever bond to. Period."

Phantom glared at her. "Well, that's nine hundred percent dead wrong."

Charon smiled a little - an irritated smile. "It makes sense."

"Of course it does," Phantom snapped. "But it's still wrong. It all has to do with the condition of your spark."

"Oh yeah?" Charon said, raising her voice. "Then why don't more severed Guardians find ghosts?"

"Because they let their souls stay in tatters," Phantom retorted. "There's nothing left for a ghost to bond with."

Charon glared. "I think you're making this up."

"I'm a ghost!" he exploded, opening his shell in rage to make himself look bigger. "We know these things! You've never even seen a spark, and neither has any therapist!"

Charon was unperturbed by his aggressive stance. She leaned right up to his core and stared into his eye. "You're asking me to believe you over the accumulated knowledge of the Vanguard?"

"It wasn't written by ghosts, was it?" Phantom shot back.

Charon flopped back against her pillow and folded her arms. "I still think you're wrong. And put your Light away, it makes me feel weird."

Phantom clapped his segments back together, his rage vanishing into anxiety. She felt his Light. How did she feel his Light? He glanced at the cracks in her spark and saw that one of them had shrank a little.

"Just go away," Charon said. "Give me some peace and quiet."

"Fine," Phantom snapped, and phased from sight. He didn't leave, just hung there, invisible.

But when Charon burst into tears, he crept out of the room and hid under a chair in the hall. He'd made her angry, then he'd made her cry.

And she felt his Light, even with her spark still damaged.

Phantom didn't know what to do, but he felt small, mean, and pathetic. So he hid nearby and waited.


	4. Chapter 4: Allegations

Charon hadn't had a good cry since Simon died. She worked hard at it and felt better afterward. Then she started a new painting, a full moon in a dusky sky over a mirror-like lake. It was a simple composition, and keeping her hands busy helped her think.

Phantom thought the condition of the soul dictated a Guardian's ability to bond to a ghost. And he said hers was healing. She wanted to believe him so badly - but she had also read so much material that said otherwise. She hardly dared hope.

But if he was right and she did heal enough, she hoped Phantom would be her ghost. He'd certainly stuck to her without offering any real reason. Everything he'd said implied his admiration of her, even when he lost his temper.

Light, ghosts were cute when they got mad.

Charon glanced around for Phantom, didn't see him, and sighed. Hopefully she hadn't hurt his feelings too badly. He had been a good combat partner, even saving her with a sparrow when he couldn't heal her. Simon never would have thought of that. Phantom's mind worked so differently from Simon's.

A little hope trickled in from a different direction. If she could partner with a warlock who could keep her healed, she wouldn't need a ghost's healing, right? She could go back to being a proper Guardian. Running missions. Fighting the forces of Darkness. Sheen-6, while an excellent combat warlock, barely knew the rudiments of healing.

But then ... if Charon did bond with a new ghost ... she'd have her life back. Her whole career. She could try out for Crucible teams again. Light, she missed that. It was like a door had cracked open in her mind, letting in a thin beam of light from a grand party from which she'd been excluded.

Charon stayed overnight in the hospital bed, even though she felt perfectly well. They released her early the next morning. She had just enough time to run home, shower, and change before work. Phantom was nowhere in sight, and she was beginning to worry about him.

"Phantom?" she called as she brushed her hair.

The ghost flickered into being and peeked around the armor rack at her.

"There you are," Charon said, smiling at him in the mirror. "I was afraid I'd hurt your feelings and you'd left for good."

He flew up and hovered over her shoulder. "I wouldn't leave," he told her quietly. "And I'm sorry for making you cry."

"I needed to," she told him. "I do hope you're right. About the spark thing."

"I am," he said with arrogant assurance. "Just wait and see."

Did he hope to become her ghost? How could she weasel it out of him?

"So," she said, "once my spark is fixed, will a ghost just ... show up?"

"Maybe," Phantom said.

Charon glanced at him in the mirror. "What would you do if another ghost turned up as a match?"

Phantom said nothing, but his blue eye slowly turned a dark, smoldering red.

Charon held back a laugh. "Does that make you angry?"

Phantom bobbed up and down.

"Why should it?" Charon said. "You're not my ghost. You're my friend."

Phantom zipped out of the bathroom and shot around and around the living room, still without saying a word.

Well, he refused to tell her if he wanted to be her ghost, but he was certainly infuriated at the idea of another ghost butting in.

"Phantom, hey," she said, stepping into the living room and holding out a hand. "Calm down. Come here."

He zipped up and floated over her palm, his eye still red.

"Look," she said quietly, "when I'm ready to look for a new ghost, you'll be first in line. All right?"

The red faded from his eye, leaving it blue once more. "You mean it?"

Charon nodded. "Don't get so upset. I was only teasing. Now, come on, I'm a day late for work and Matilda will have my head."

Maybe it was the remains of his rage, or maybe she was growing sensitive to him. But as she left her apartment, she was aware of the warmth of his Light against her left cheek.

* * *

Charon arrived at the ghost network office and settled into her tiny chair, as usual. Phantom phased from sight. Matilda was a few minutes late, so Charon made a good start on catching up on the pile of work that had appeared on her table.

Matilda arrived, her hair tied back in its usual bun, in a brown dress that resembled a sack tied at the waist. "Well," she said, surveying Charon. "You're finally back."

"Yes, ma'am," Charon said meekly. "Do I need to file a report about my absence?"

"I already know," Matilda said, sitting heavily in her own chair. "Apparently the ghost network has been talking about you. And an unattached ghost who has been courting you." She stuffed a sheaf of papers under Charon's nose.

An electric prickle of panic raced through Charon as she took the reports. The way Matilda said _courting you_ made it sound like a misdemeanor on level with vandalizing the Vanguard Commander's office.

The report had been compiled from several ghost statements. All bonded ghosts, she noticed, looking at their ID tags. The unbonded ghosts hadn't ratted her out.

The statement said that an unbonded ghost had been following a severed Guardian around the tower, courting her and building rapport, claiming that she could be his Guardian someday. He had said that she had named him, securing their attachment, and had solicited advice from the network about what to do next. He also swore that their sparks weren't quite compatible, but hers was getting closer.

Written in black and white like that, it looked like the worst sort of emotional manipulation. Charon's hand shook a little. "Phantom," she whispered.

He phased into sight, stealthily, using her to shield him from Matilda, and read the report. His pupil widened, and he blinked up at Charon, slowly shaking his head as if to say, _No, it isn't true._

"Well?" Matilda snapped. Phantom vanished.

"It's not true," Charon said coolly, handing the paper back.

Matilda took the report back. "I know you've been circulating around with that ghost. You even took it on patrol. It didn't heal you, which you seem to have overlooked."

"He's not my ghost," Charon said, bluffing for all she was worth, although her heart beat so hard it threatened to suffocate her. "He's just following me until he finds his Guardian."

But inwardly she thought, _He already thinks I'm his? And our sparks aren't compatible yet? And he's been asking advice from the other ghosts? Has Phantom been a creepy stalker all along?_

Matilda's expression softened. She patted Charon's hand. "Honey, this happens sometimes. People see you at your weakest and try to take advantage of you."

"I thought ghosts didn't do that," said Charon, more lost by the minute.

Matilda shrugged. "Possibly he's malfunctioning. I've had to pass this on to the Ghost Oversight Committee. You and the ghost have an appointment with them at noon."

Charon's thundering heart nearly stopped, then raced on, twice as hard. The Ghost Oversight Committee had a lot of power, though they hardly ever used it. They worked under the Consensus, itself. If they thought Phantom had been a lying, manipulating little creep, which she began to wonder, herself, then they had the authority to do anything from dismantling him to outright executing him.

But ... what if this accusation was correct, and he'd been manipulating her? To her, his end goal of winning himself a Guardian was innocent enough. But who wanted a ghost who lied and faked his way into her confidence?

Of course, the accusation might be false, or just putting a bad spin on a small number of facts. In which case, seeing him hauled off and dismantled would probably kill her.

Slowly she turned back to her table and picked up a random report. She read it three times without seeing it and put it down again.

By the time noon arrived, Charon had accomplished very little. Moving in a haze of horror, she slowly got up and left the office. Once outside, she whispered, "Phantom?"

"I'm here," he replied, appearing over her shoulder.

Charon's feet carried her unwillingly toward the stairs that would lead her to the committee chambers. "Did you really ... do all those things?"

"Yes," he snapped. "And a lot more besides. They left that out because they wanted me to look as bad as possible. You're not my Guardian, so there's things I just ... can't tell you, yet."

"Like the truth?" Charon said, reaching the foot of the stairs. One step. Two. Three.

"No!" Phantom explained. "Personal things about spark compatibility. And - and - Light and Darkness, will they kill me?"

"I don't know." Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Charon's face felt frozen in place. "You want me to be your Guardian, right?"

"With my whole core," Phantom said quietly. "But ... I shouldn't even have said that much. Your spark will take years to mend, and I didn't want to ... to break it further."

Charon whirled around, there on the eighteenth step, and cupped him in both hands, touching him for the first time. "You little moron," she whispered. "If they decide to execute you, I swear I will summon my golden hammer and kill everyone in the room."

He sat quietly between her hands, as if terrified to move. "Please, don't. I can escape. And - and let me go, I'm not yours."

Slowly Charon released him. Phantom gazed at her with a soft expression. "I'm sure we can explain. It'll be fine, you'll see."

* * *

The Ghost Oversight Committee seldom had reason to meet. When they did, it was an excuse to play cards, drink, and try the latest pastry invention from the restaurants downstairs. Guardians took exquisite care of their ghosts. While sometimes a case came along that required their input, like a strange one about a mute ghost, they seldom had to intervene much.

There were only three of them, a Cryptarch and two retired warlocks who now worked in the Tower archives. When the case of Charon and Phantom reached their desks, it was the first time in years that they'd gotten a truly sticky case. The whole committee was excited.

When Charon and Phantom entered the room, they faced three imposing elderly Guardians sitting soberly behind a desk stacked with folders and papers. They hid their excitement well.

The Committee read the report with the accusations. It was the same one Phantom and Charon had read. When they finished, one of them waved Phantom forward. "Are these allegations true?"

Phantom spun his segments very fast, his eye darting from face to face. "Yes. But it's all taken out of context. I didn't mean any of that the way it sounded."

"Please explain," said one of the warlocks. "Judging by this report alone, you're a master manipulator."

"No way!" Phantom exclaimed. "Look, when I met Charon, she ... her spark ..." He stumbled to a halt and gave Charon an embarrassed look. "We have some compatibility."

"But," said the Cryptarch, "why didn't you bond, then? Why follow her around and solicit the other ghosts for help?"

"Because nobody's ever done this before!" Phantom retorted. "I can't ... it can't work right now."

"Why?" asked a warlock. "She's standing right there. Bond your sparks, as you should."

Phantom turned to Charon, trapped. Her spark was still so broken. He didn't even know how a bond might work, at this point - he might bond to only half her spark, or a smaller fraction, forever limited to a corner of her spark, his healing and resurrection powers barely operating.

"I can't," he said to Charon. He spun to face the Committee. "I can't. Not yet."

The three wrote down notes in ominous silence. The Cryptarch said, "You've been building rapport with a Guardian you can't bond with. In essence, you're attempting to steal a Guardian who is vulnerable after the loss of her ghost."

"No!" Phantom shouted, spinning to look at Charon, then back at the Committee. This accusation stung all the more deeply because it appeared he'd done exactly that. "It's not like that at all! Her spark is still too cracked."

The Committee exchanged grave looks.

"Sparks don't sustain damage that way," said a warlock. "It's a bit of insubstantial Light. It cannot crack."

That Vanguard dogma again. Phantom lost his temper. He threw his shell open and raged at the Committee. "You don't know anything about ghosts or sparks! You can't drag me in here and accuse me of such nonsense when you don't even understand how the ghost bond works! Your photometers measure brightness, not condition! How can you give me a fair trial when you don't understand what's happening?"

One of the warlocks summoned his ghost. It flew to Phantom and shone a narrow, concentrated beam of red light into his eye.

Phantom shuddered, his eye fizzing into static. His shell snapped closed. He dropped out of the air and landed on the table before the Committee.

"Is he dead?" Charon gasped. She was shaken and a little sick - but she wasn't sure if that was Phantom's fault, or the Committee's.

"Only stunned," said the warlock, retrieving his ghost. "He'll be fine. Now, Guardian, tell us your side."

Charon told them the story from the beginning, never looking away from Phantom's inert form. When she reached the part about naming him, the whole committee groaned.

"Do you realize the significance of naming an unattached ghost?" exclaimed the Cryptarch. "You essentially handed him an engagement ring."

Charon covered her mouth with both hands. She'd had no idea ... and it had bothered Phantom, too, although he hadn't told her why.

She continued her story. The committee listened intently, jotting down notes. When she finished, they reviewed their notes in silence for a while, comparing them to the original report.

Finally, the committee took a break to confer in a back room. One of the warlocks kindly offered Charon a box of danish before leaving.

Charon ate one, but had no more appetite than that. Phantom looked so helpless, lying on the table with his eye fizzed out. She lifted him and held him in her lap. "Whatever they decide," she whispered, "I won't let them kill you." She stroked his shell and waited, her stomach clenched with dread. This little trial had forced Phantom to all but proclaim his feelings for her, and she was awfully embarrassed for him. He did seem like a manipulator, even if he hadn't meant to. Light, they had enough grounds to execute him.

The committee finally returned, looking solemn.

"While we can't rule out the possibility of compatibility between you," said a warlock, "we also can't let possible manipulation continue. We've decided that it's best if you are both separated for a period of time. Let the fire die down, as it were."

Charon's lips could hardly form words. "Wh - what's that mean?"

The Cryptarch lifted a wire cage into view from behind the table, the kind used to house rabbits or other small animals. "This Phantom will spend a year in confinement. We'll make sure he can't phase free. Pass him here, miss."

Charon didn't want to pass Phantom to them, didn't watch to see them attach an anti-phase device to his shell, didn't want to see them shut him in the cage. And she especially didn't want to see them wake him up and tell him his sentence.

"What?" Phantom raged, crashing against the cage's sides and top. "You can't do this to me! It's inhumane! Charon, don't let them!"

"I can't," she said helplessly. "It's not a death sentence. Just a ... a boredom sentence."

The ghost stopped careening around the cage and stared at her though the bars, his eye wide. "Do ... do you think I deserve to be in here, Charon?"

Charon couldn't answer or she would cry. Ultimately, she was the one passing judgment on him, and she didn't know what to think. So she simply turned her back and walked out of the committee office. But she still heard Phantom's soft, wounded, "Charon!" as she left.


	5. Chapter 5: Caged

Phantom was not a good inmate.

They put his cage in a corner of the admitting office, thinking to use him as an example to other ghosts. But Phantom quickly tallied up the number of people in the vicinity, decided he could annoy all of them, and began dragging his shell around and around the wire cage walls. This ruined his shell, but the metal on metal clatter was loud and obnoxious. He did it for hours.

He lasted two days in the admitting office. Then they moved him to the ghost mechanic's shop, outside. Phantom examined this new location, including all the passersby, and resumed scraping his shell on the wire walls. This time, whenever a concerned person or Guardian approached to see him, he shouted, "Ghost abuse! Look what they've done to me! I didn't do anything to deserve this! The Ghost Oversight Committee are cruel!"

News of this spread rapidly through the Tower, and the committee began receiving hate mail. They hastily relocated him indoors, to a small, empty room with a door they could shut.

Without anyone to annoy, Phantom fell to hacking the anti-phase device attached to the back of his shell. It had alarms built into it at various security levels, so whenever he breached one, a guard came in with a ghost who swiftly repaired the device and changed the protocols around.

But as the days passed, Phantom's temper began to die down. The room had one window, but they had set him on the floor in the darkest corner, and this began to grind him down. He took to lying in the back corner of his cage for hours, often days. Charon was gone, and he missed her with his entire being. For a few glorious days, he'd thought he'd found his Guardian. So much for that. He'd ruined it so bad, he was stuck in a cage in a back room somewhere.

A month into his confinement, footsteps rang outside his door. Multiple people. Phantom flicked his eye on, but didn't move from the cage floor.

One of the Committee warlocks opened the door. "He's a regular demon, miss. We had to put him in here-"

Charon shoved her way inside, wearing full Titan armor and looking fierce. She looked around the room, spotted the cage on the floor in the corner, and rushed to it. She dropped to her knees and peered inside.

Phantom looked up at her from his spot on the floor, trying to seem as pathetic as possible.

Charon spun around on hands and knees. "What did you do to him?" she shrieked at the warlock. "He's completely trashed!"

The warlock ventured closer and peered through the bars. "He did that himself, Guardian. He made noise to protest. It's why he's in here."

"Phantom," Charon whispered, sticking her fingers through the bars. "Are you all right?"

He slowly floated off the floor and leaned against her fingers. "I'm all right, Charon. But ... are you?"

"Fifteen minutes," the warlock said, and left the room.

Charon sat on the floor and lifted the cage onto her knees, so she could see Phantom at eye level. "I've been so depressed, Phantom. I just got off patrol, and my team said to come up here and kick down doors until they let me see you. So I did."

Phantom brightened. "You literally kicked down doors?"

"No," Charon admitted. "But I slammed them open pretty hard."

"You could, you know," he said, admiring her armor. "Light, it's good to see you again."

"Why did they call you a demon?"

"Because I did this." Phantom dragged his shell along the wire, letting her hear the full obnoxious symphony. "For days."

Charon laughed. "It's tearing up your shell, so stop it."

He did, flying as close to her face as possible. "Charon ... do you think I deserve this? Did I hurt you so badly?"

"No," she said firmly. "I thought about it all month, and I think I was more at fault than you were. I ... manipulated you, because I've been so lonely for a ghost. But I didn't know I was doing it. I didn't realize the significance of naming you, for one thing."

"I tried to tell you it was a bad idea," Phantom said. "I'm a lonely ghost, and we get attached easily."

Charon bit her lower lip. "I'm sorry. For everything."

"Me, too." Phantom looked at her spark, glowing so brightly in the middle of her chest. "Oh ... your spark has a new crack in it. The others were almost healed, too."

"It does?" Charon didn't want to fight about it again, not when they had so little time. "Maybe it's because I've lost two ghosts, now."

"I'm not lost," Phantom whispered. "I'm right here."

"In jail," she whispered back. "Is there anything I can possibly do to make this better?"

"Let you take my cage to your apartment?" Phantom said hopefully. "Call it house arrest?"

She laughed sadly and shook her head. "They won't go for that, Phantom. How about if I made them put you on a table instead of the floor?"

"Near a window," Phantom said at once. "So I can see the light and the sky. Maybe even the Traveler."

Charon set his cage down, went to the door, and spoke to the people outside. Her voice grew sharp and threatening, but eventually, Charon returned with a small table of the right height. She set it under the window and put Phantom's cage on it.

"I can see the Traveler!" he exclaimed, looking out. "And the Tower walk and a piece of the City. Thank you, Charon. This is much better than the floor."

She kissed her fingertips and stuck them through the wire. Phantom pressed himself against them, and watched wistfully as she left.

* * *

Charon came to see him once a week after that. Phantom lived for her visits. The rest of the time, he lay on the floor of his cage, staring out the window. He memorized the faces of everyone who walked by, at every time of day. He watched the Traveler's debris field orbit it in the sky, and at night, he watched the Light leak out of its wounds. He wasn't quite so depressed, but he was desperately lonely. The anti-phase device dampened his communications, so he couldn't even talk to the Ghost Gossip Network.

Not that he wanted to, the bunch of tell-tale narcs. He never wanted to speak to any of them again.

Eight weeks into his incarceration, Charon visited with the news that she was being visited by more ghosts.

"Word gets around, I guess," she said, leaning her elbows on the table beside his cage. "Seems the ghosts who reported you bragged that they'd gotten you locked up."

Phantom made an incoherent noise of fury.

"I know," Charon agreed. "I've made note of their Guardians' names so I'll never, ever work with them."

Phantom studied her face, trying to absorb as much detail as possible during their brief time together. "What about these ghost visits?"

"A steady stream of unattached ones," Charon said. "I think they're testing me for compatibility."

"What!" Phantom hit the roof of the cage. "How dare they!"

"None have been a match, yet," Charon said. "Calm down. The point I was making is, they all scan my spark. And they all talk about it the way you do - that it's still damaged, but mending. Some couldn't believe that I lost my ghost such a short time ago."

"Am I still wrong?" Phantom said smugly.

Charon shrugged. "I know you haven't talked to any of them. And they all say it different ways, but they all act like they're seeing the same thing. I'm having to admit that maybe ghosts see things differently than the Vanguard photometers."

"Imagine looking at a candle," Phantom said. "You can see the wick and all the colors in the flame. Now take a photo of it. All you see is a bright spot. That's the difference between what ghosts see and what photometers capture."

Charon thought about this. "I wish you'd explained it that way before."

"I have a lot of time to think," Phantom said. "About all the things I said or shouldn't have said. I had no idea I'd be accused of ... of malicious intent. At first it was just a fun game, following you around. But then ... I got to know you, and ... it wasn't a game anymore. I really did think we could ... court. Or date. Or whatever you call this. But ... apparently that's too weird for the Vanguard."

Charon gave him a sad smile. "I don't think you had malicious intent. I think I was just massively ignorant about unattached ghosts and how to treat them. I sent you signals that ... maybe I shouldn't have."

Phantom nodded. "Same here. I sit here and kick myself over and over."

The door opened and a committee warlock said, "Time's up, Guardian."

As Charon rose to her feet, she said, "Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable? Anything I can bring you?"

"Could you bring me my picture?" Phantom asked. "I'd like to look at it."

Charon's smile was a little watery. "Of course I will."

* * *

On her next visit, Charon brought her watercolor of Phantom and tacked it to the wall near his cage. He gazed at it for hours, taking in every brush stroke and color.

Outside, the summer waned toward fall. Then it began to snow, and the view changed to black and white. The people passing by on the wall went about in greatcoats, scarves and hats. Phantom's little room grew very cold. He told himself that he was a robot and didn't mind it. But he did mind it. So did other ghosts. He saw many riding along in their Guardians' scarves or collars. At night, the piercing cold leeched through the glass and nearly froze him solid. By morning, the glass was feathered with frost.

Phantom thought he was holding up to his imprisonment quite well - until the cold set in. Then he found that he wasn't a good prisoner at all. He cried to himself at night when the cold hurt him. Some nights the bars seemed to press in on him, their steel as cold as ice. He attacked them, careening around the inside of the cage, until they seemed to recede a little.

When Charon came for a visit one morning, the room was so cold that Phantom had hoarfrost crystals on his shell. More frost clung to the cage bars.

"Do you think they could move me someplace warmer?" he begged her. "They say ghosts shouldn't feel the cold. But we do."

Charon stamped out of the room in a rage. A few minutes later, a committee warlock arrived and carried the cage into the inner office, where a lot of people worked at desks and it was much warmer.

"Now listen up, you," the warlock said to Phantom. "You go back to making noise, we'll put you right back by the window again."

"I won't," Phantom said meekly.

They stuck him on a table in a corner, out of the way, but at least he was surrounded by people again. Charon hung up his picture for him and sat in a chair. "Is this better?"

"Much," he said. "I'll miss the view, but not the cold nights." He couldn't express how awful the cold nights had been.

She stuck her fingers through the bars and wiped off as much of the melting frost as she could. Phantom enjoyed this.

"Are ghosts still visiting you?" he asked.

Charon nodded. "Not as many, now, but they do turn up occasionally. No matches so far."

Phantom nodded, reassured.

When Charon left, he lay on the floor of his cage and watched the office staff go about their business. This was post-mission intelligence, so sometimes the conversations about Mars, or Venus, or Mercury got very interesting. Nobody paid attention to him, except for a curious look now and then. But it was worlds better than the lonely room and the piercing cold.

Once, a warlock in full combat robes came in to give additional information on a report. As he filled out paperwork at a desk, his ghost, in a fiery red and yellow shell, ventured to the cage and blinked at Phantom, lying dejectedly in the bottom.

"What did you do?" the other ghost whispered.

"Ask the GGN," Phantom said bitterly. "They did this."

"I haven't used the GGN in years," said the other ghost. "At one point they were saying terrible things about my Guardian, so I left."

Phantom approved. "I'm an unattached ghost who thought I could bond with a severed Guardian. The Vanguard thought I was manipulating her. Here I am."

"That's terrible!" whispered the other ghost. "Are you compatible with her spark?"

"I will be, once her spark heals," Phantom said. "I've got six months left in here. Who knows. Maybe once they let me out, they won't ship me to Jupiter."

The other ghost swept Phantom with a healing beam. It felt surprisingly good, like a warm hug, and cheered Phantom up a little.

"Hang in there," the other ghost said. "I'll talk to my Guardian. He might be able to do something."

Phantom gave the warlock a doubtful look. "I doubt it, unless he can overturn the Ghost Oversight Committee's ruling."

"What's your not-yet-Guardian's name?" asked the ghost.

"Charon," Phantom said. "Titan."

The other ghost nodded. "I'll let you know if anything happens. Maybe nothing. Maybe something."

The other ghost returned to his Guardian. Phantom watched them leave, trying not to hope.

* * *

On Charon's next visit, Phantom meant to tell her about the warlock and the sympathetic ghost. But when Charon walked in, a ghost came with her.

Phantom shot off the floor of his cage, staring in panic. Had she found another compatible ghost? So soon? He scrutinized their sparks. Charon's was still cracked, and the other ghost's - yes, still unbonded. He relaxed a little.

"Hi, Phantom," Charon said, sitting at his table and pulling off her scarf. "This is Mitzi."

"How do you do," said the other ghost in a soft, feminine voice.

"Hello," said Phantom uncertainly. "What's the occasion?"

Mitzi flew to the bars and said with excitement, "I'm a sixty-percent match for Charon's spark!"

If this was supposed to make Phantom happy, it didn't. He hung there, motionless, staring at the other ghost. His own match percentage with Charon was considerably higher than ninety-nine percent, but he hadn't told anyone.

The trouble was, a ghost could bond with a spark if the match was higher than seventy percent. And this interloper could steal away his future Guardian.

Slowly he turned to Charon. "What's the point of this?"

Charon leaned close to the cage. "Look, it's cruel that you're locked up like this. If I can find another ghost, then you won't be a so-called threat to me anymore, and they'll let you go."

Phantom glanced from Mitzi, to Charon, and back. His entire world was slowly cracking, threatening to fall to pieces. "Did you name her?" he whispered.

"No," Charon assured him, "she'd already named herself."

"Don't worry, Phantom," Mitzi gushed cheerfully. "All proper etiquette is being observed this time. I don't want to end up in a cage." She giggled.

Phantom turned to Charon. "You don't want me anymore?"

"Of course I do," Charon whispered. "But it might be better if ... if you found a proper Guardian. You'd be free. Not locked up."

Phantom backed away from Charon and Mitzi until he hit the rear cage wall. "I ... I guess ... If you want her more than me, Charon, then ... that's your choice."

"Phantom," Charon pleaded, "look, I can't stand you being in there. This was the only way I could think of to free you."

"Or wait six months," Phantom said. "But ... but ... whatever you want." He didn't know what else to say. Given time, Mitzi might be a better ghost for Charon. At least she wasn't stalking her and ... manipulating and ... whatever else he was supposed to have done. Cold crept through his core, deeper and more penetrating than the bitterest night by the frozen window.

He dropped to the floor and hid his eye in the cage's corner. "I guess you'd better get to know each other, then. And you'd probably shouldn't call me Phantom anymore."

Charon sat there in stricken silence. Mitzi was quiet, too. Once the fifteen minutes were up, they left without a word.

The ghost who had been Phantom didn't move for days.


	6. Chapter 6: Will you be my Guardian?

Charon lay in bed that night, sick at how badly she'd hurt Phantom. She expected him to get angry and tell her off, not ... go agonizingly quiet and accepting.

Mitzi was phased somewhere in the living room, and Charon wasn't sure how much she liked her. Mitzi was a nice ghost, sure, but for someone else. Maybe she should take Mitzi for a patrol or two. See how she held up in combat. That had been her litmus test for Phantom, and he had done as well as an unbonded ghost possibly could.

She got up, found her handheld computer tablet, and composed a message to her fireteam. "Hey guys, want to run another patrol this week? I've got another potential ghost who needs a test run."

* * *

Charon asked Mitzi to transmat her sparrow out into the snowy wilderness, where they'd be patrolling.

Mitzi hesitated. "I don't know ... I thought only bonded ghosts could do that."

"Phantom did," Charon said cheerfully. "He said it only needed a tag."

Mitzi looked are her doubtfully. "But Phantom was a renegade. It's why he's locked up."

"It wasn't from transmatting a sparrow," Charon replied. "Just try it."

Mitzi flew half-heartedly around the bike, then shook her head. "I'm sorry, I can't."

This became Mitzi's refrain. She couldn't transmat anything, and she couldn't hack Charon's helmet HUD, either.

"It's still under your old ghost's account name!" Mitzi said, shocked. "I couldn't hack into that! You said that Phantom got right in?"

"Sure," Charon said, crouching behind a tree, watching her teammates move into position to attack a Fallen scouting team. "Took him two seconds. Hurry up, I need my live map."

"I - I can't," Mitzi said, phasing into hiding. "Please don't get too close to the Fallen. I'm so scared of them."

"I'm a Titan," Charon said, raising her rifle. "Up close and personal is what I do."

It was a small group of aliens, only about sixteen of them. The Guardians picked them off at a distance. Three of them tried to escape into the trees, but Charon ran them down and killed them in hand to hand combat.

As she walked back through the snow to congratulate her team, Mitzi reappeared, shivering in midair. She flew beside Charon without speaking, but often she spun in a circle to check for attackers.

"You wouldn't have to do that if you'd hacked my HUD," Charon pointed out.

"Maybe I will, next time," Mitzi said faintly.

She accompanied Charon on the remainder of the patrol. The fireteam rode their sparrows all the way down to the south end of the wall and back up again, making a long, slow loop. They cleaned out a second nest of Fallen along the way.

As the short day turned into dusk, the Guardians returned to the north gate and reentered the City.

"Well, how was it?" Charon asked, riding her sparrow at a crawl down a busy street, her team following.

"Educational," Mitzi replied. "I've never observed Guardians so closely before." She spoke absently, and turned from side to side, as if still watching for an ambush.

"What's the matter?" Charon asked.

Mitzi said, "Can we turn left up ahead? I'm picking up something odd."

Charon did so. Mitzi directed her through the City's streets to the shores of the lake that lay within the walls. Here was the City's water supply, and also several pleasant parks, where families played in the snow before night settled in completely.

Mitzi left Charon without a word and flew along the lake shore, pausing here and there to scan.

Ashton and Sheen caught up to Charon. They sat in a row on their sparrows, watching the ghost shrink into the distance, only the light of her scan beam marking her location.

"What's she up to?" Ashton asked.

"I think," Charon said, "she's about to find her Guardian."

 _And it's not me_ , she thought, heart sinking. Why had she told Phantom about Mitzi and thought he wouldn't mind? The way he'd turned his back and put his eye in the cage's corner ...

In the distance, Light flashed. A human figure was illuminated from head to foot in the lake shallows as Mitzi resurrected her Guardian.

"That's how it's supposed to work," Sheen said. "None of this dating ghosts nonsense."

Ashton zipped away on his sparrow to greet the new Guardian and guide them to the Tower.

Charon stayed where she was. "You think dating a ghost is nonsense?"

"Girl," Sheen said, "Guardians don't work that way. Our ghosts resurrect us and that's it. One Guardian, one ghost, one shot."

"So ..." Charon drew a deep breath, thinking of Phantom's reassurances, and the words of other ghosts who had seen cracks in her spark. "So you think it's impossible. For Phantom and me."

Sheen patted her shoulder. "You two are crushing on each other, but it won't work."

Charon shrugged off her friend's touch, anger rising within her. "You've basically just said that I'm damned."

Sheen shrugged, holding up both hands. "Just saying, Guardians don't get replacement ghosts. Ask Eris Morn."

Charon didn't want to think about Eris, ex-Guardian who carried around a glowing rock as if it were her missing ghost.

Ashton returned on foot, guiding a confused young Awoken woman. Mitzi floated contentedly beside her. As they passed Charon, Mitzi said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Charon said stiffly.

"You two head back," Ashton said, unable to take his eyes off the new girl. "I'll escort her to the Tower myself."

"Another crush," Sheen said, rolling her eyes, and departed on her sparrow.

Charon took a different route home in order to be alone with her thoughts. Seeing a ghost bond to a Guardian had driven home the Vanguard dogma about how only the first resurrection counted. Charon had been resurrected by Simon, and according to them, Simon was all she'd ever have.

But the thought of Phantom tore her heart. If it had been Simon in that cage, it would have hurt equally as much.

Riding home, alone and ghostless, Charon took a hard look at herself. Did she want a ghost because she wanted to be a full Guardian again? Or because she honestly cared for the little light trapped in a cage like an animal?

She desperately wanted to be a Guardian again. That had never changed. But a large part of her heart was locked in that cage with Phantom. Even if a second ghost bond was impossible, she owed him better treatment than that. He was her friend.

"I'll help him find his Guardian," she muttered as she drove. "I'll take him out into the wilds and escort him around until he finds his other half. I owe him that much for putting him through this."

She arrived back at the Tower and went to her apartment, where she paced restlessly around her rooms. Voices echoed in her head.

 _You only get one shot at being a Guardian._

 _You could bond to another ghost if your spark was healed._

 _The spark condition means nothing - only the first resurrection._

Worst of all, over and over, she heard Phantom ask, " _Do you think I deserve to be in here, Charon_?"

She finally crawled into bed and blasted loud music on a headset until she dozed off. Even then, Phantom's dejected voice haunted her dreams.

" _Did I hurt you so badly_?"

* * *

The next morning dawned gray and snowing heavily.

Charon was standing in line to check her mail before going to see Phantom, when a voice said, "Guardian Charon?"

She looked around. A warlock stood nearby, a dark-skinned human, with snowflakes collecting in his hair. A ghost in a red and yellow shell floated over his shoulder.

"Yes?" she said.

The warlock extended a hand. "Guardian Jayesh. My ghost met yours a few days ago, and I wanted to talk to you about him."

"He's not mine," Charon said automatically.

Jayesh and his ghost exchanged looks. "Oh, he's yours, all right."

This enigmatic statement was enough to coax Charon out of line and under the nearest overhang, which kept the snow off.

"What do you mean?" she asked in a low voice.

Jayesh's ghost spun his segments and dusted the snow off his Guardian's hair. Jayesh didn't seem to notice. "I went by to look at this Phantom a few minutes ago. He's given himself up for dead. Wouldn't look at us or interact whatsoever. I've never seen a ghost in a cage before, and I think it's beyond cruel. But ghosts don't pine away like that for nothing." He gave Charon an earnest look.

Charon looked toward the administration building, and her feet almost carried her in that direction. "He's dying? No, no ... he can't." When the warlock looked inquiring, Charon explained," I brought in a ghost to meet him that had a decent compatibility rate ... four days ago." The words sounded so dry and careless. They choked her. "He got so sad, then. Told me he didn't want his name anymore."

What had she really expected? Phantom loved her, and she had all but rejected him. If anything would kill a ghost, that would.

Jayesh smacked himself in the face. "Don't you get it? He cares about you, you care about him. The soul bond goes way beyond just the spark. You two should have bonded as soon as you met."

"But," Charon protested, "my spark is damaged."

Jayesh gestured to his ghost, who flew forward and studied Charon.

"One crack," the ghost announced. "And I'll bet it's being separated from her ghost."

Charon's heart leaped - with joy and awful guilt. Even this ghost said Phantom belonged to her. Oh, what had she done? Had she not been a Titan with a reputation to keep up, she might have begun crying right there on the Tower walk.

Jayesh pointed toward the administration building. "You'd better get in there and make up with that ghost before he dies of a broken heart."

"What about the Committee?"

"I'll deal with the Committee," Jayesh said grimly. "I know all of them, and they could use a good talking to."

* * *

The ghost who had been Phantom lay in the cage with his eye in the corner. Agonizing pain beat in his core. He'd found his Guardian and lost her.

Charon had found another ghost. She didn't need him. They'd probably bonded in the first few days. All of his wishing and hoping had been for nothing. He had another six months to spend in this cage, and then ... nothing awaited him on the other side.

If only he hadn't been so arrogant. If only he hadn't trusted the other ghosts so much. If only he hadn't treated Charon like his Guardian before she was. If only he'd been patient. If only. If only.

He was a severed ghost without ever having bonded his spark. He'd failed Charon, he'd failed the Traveler, he'd failed himself.

He slept for hours and hours. When he was awake, the misery hounded him until he sought solace in sleep again. His spark guttered and dimmed. Eventually, he wouldn't wake up at all. Maybe the Traveler would accept him back, pathetic, ruined spark that he was. He tried not to think about Charon. She was lost to him, bonded forever to someone else. He tried to dream of the Traveler, but his cruel subconscious gave him memories of Charon's laugh, instead, and the way her watercolor brush had glided over the paper.

How hopeless it was to love a Guardian who could never truly be his.

He awakened from one such dream to a frantic tapping on the cage wire. "Phantom. Phantom!"

Charon's voice. He woke up a little. She had rotated the cage, and her eyes were on level with his own. He gazed at her. Beautiful Charon. Someone else's Guardian. He wasn't allowed to care about her anymore.

"Phantom, please don't die," she whispered. "Please."

"Where's ... Mitzi?" he whispered. Surely Mitzi had come along to offer false sympathy as the remains of his spark faded away.

"She left," Charon said ironically. "She wouldn't transmat anything, wouldn't hack my HUD, then took off and found herself a different Guardian."

His eye brightened with a fragment of hope. "She ... she did? And you ... you came back? For me?"

"Yes," she whispered. "If it's possible, I want you as my ghost. Only you, Phantom."

Hearing her speak those words revived him like he'd received a full-powered healing beam. His spark brightened. She wanted him.

He exerted himself and floated a few inches off the cage floor. "So ... I guess I can be Phantom again."

"You always were," Charon said. Her fingers tightened on the cage. "Light, I want to hold you. I'm so, so sorry, Phantom. Look, if we still can't bond, I'll take you out and help you find your true Guardian, all right?"

Her spark sang to him through her words. She loved him and she wasn't trying to hide it.

"You're so kind," he murmured. "But I don't think that'll be necessary."

Charon glanced around. "That warlock set me straight this morning. Said we should have bonded as soon as we met. He's fighting the Committee right now. Hear them?"

Phantom looked around, becoming aware of his surroundings for the first time. They were in a different room, one with chairs against the walls. Muffled shouting came from a nearby closed door.

"He's right," Phantom said. "Because I think ... I think I could heal your spark. I could have held it together, maybe. Helped you heal faster."

Phantom was reviving rapidly now. Charon's spark was so warm and near, and nearly all the discord was gone from its song. Only one crack still marred its beautiful light. His own Light surged in response. It was time. Oh, it was finally time, and he wasn't even out of confinement yet.

"Charon," he murmured, lifting his eye to hers. "My wonderful, talented, ferocious Titan. Will you be my Guardian?"

"Yes," she whispered, leaning her forehead against the wire. "I need you, Phantom."

He opened his core, at long last, baring his spark to hers. His Light flowed into her, merging their souls, teaching him how to heal her, resurrect her, to speak inside her mind. He felt her desperate longing for him, her loneliness, her never-ending grief for her first ghost. Maybe he could help with that, in time.

He folded his own spark into the crack in hers, mending it with himself. For a moment it hurt - hurt with grief and longing, despair and helpless anger. Phantom took it into himself, sharing the pain, reducing the burden Charon carried. From now on, when she hurt, he would, too. And when joy filled her, he would double it.

Charon felt his Light beating alongside her own, felt his moods, his sympathy, his hopeless adoration of her. She also glimpsed a terrible insecurity she hadn't known existed ... but maybe she could help with that.

She felt him mend the cracks in her soul, patching them with his own devotion, reducing her grief, strengthening her in a way that Simon never had. Maybe it was because they'd had to work so hard to find each other.

"My Phantom," she whispered. "My own little light. Come here."

She tore the cage apart like it was made of rotten wicker. The sides split under her furious strength, the metal breaking with a series of sharp pings. Charon lifted Phantom out and let the cage clatter to the floor. She broke the anti-phase device off his shell, dropping it to the floor, where she crunched it under a boot heel.

Then she cuddled him against her cheek, as she'd been wishing to do for months. His shell was cold, but his core was warm from all the Light he'd just given her. She felt a gust of relief from him touch her mind, as if he'd sighed in bliss.

"How are you so strong?" he whispered in her mind.

"I'm a Titan," she thought. "And I need you, my little stalker creep."

They sat there together, whispering thoughts of love and companionship to each other, paying no attention to their surroundings.

At the noise of metal ripping apart, the arguing in the next room stopped. The door opened, and the Committee and Jayesh looked out to see the cage had been torn in half. Charon sat in a chair nearby, in Titan armor, holding the prisoner ghost.

"Hey!" exclaimed one of the Committee warlocks. "His sentence isn't complete, yet!"

Charon leaped to her feet, releasing her ghost, who took his position at her left shoulder. A rifle appeared in her hands, transmatted at her silent command. She covered the Committee.

"We've just bonded our sparks," she said, her voice strong and fierce. "Phantom is mine, now, and he's done with the stupid cage. Any further discussion will be settled by bullet."

Behind the three Committee members, she glimpsed Jayesh grin and duck out of sight.

The flabbergasted Committee gaped at the Titan, then the ghost.

"But you're severed," said the Cryptarch. "It shouldn't be possible."

"Surprise," Phantom said. "If you ever think of putting a ghost in a cage again, for any reason, we will march in here and ruin your day. Several days."

The Committee flinched. "Maybe we were a little over-eager with your sentence," one said. "In hindsight, caging a ghost in such a manner seems ... excessive."

"Hear that?" Phantom said to Charon. "That almost sounded like an apology."

"I'll believe it when they send flowers and a nice card," Charon said. "Come on, we're done here."

Phantom phased inside his Guardian's armor for the first time and rode along in complete comfort and security. He didn't care where they went or what they did, as long as they were together. Oh, the joy of being bonded to his Guardian, after the gutting loneliness of the cage! Charon was there, part of him, filling the void he'd carried since his birth. He brooded over her spark like a dragon with an egg. His thoughts leaked into hers.

"You're mine, my beautiful Guardian, and I'll heal your wounds and raise you if you fall. I'll be your friend when you're lonely, your champion when you triumph, and your shield when you fail."

"My ghost," she thought in return. "My little light, my partner in war and peacetime, my closest friend always. I'll never forget my first ghost, but together we'll honor his memory, and may our sparks burn together against the Darkness."

Their sparks sang to each this way as Charon left the building and walked out into the snowy Tower thoroughfare. She knew exactly where she was headed first.

By the time they arrived, Phantom was in such a euphoric state, when she summoned him, he saw nothing but her for a while. He flew around her, sweeping her with healing beams, just because he could.

"Ma'am?" said another Guardian nearby. "Is there something wrong with your ghost?"

"He's just practicing," she said, laughing.

Other Guardians smiled fondly and moved on.

Phantom spiraled around her and buried himself between her hair and the collar of her armor. "I've wanted to do this for ages," he said in her ear, snuggling against her neck.

"Well, come out and pay attention," Charon said. "We need to replace that tattered shell of yours."

Phantom emerged, blinking around in surprise. He had no idea they were standing in front of the Eververse booth, with its racks and racks of exotic items. Every ghost in the Tower coveted shells from this place. He gazed at all the colors and shapes and felt a little overwhelmed. "Where do we even start?"

Tess, the human who ran the store, came to the counter. "A ghost shell today?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Charon. "His name is Phantom."

Tess held up a finger. "Ah. Say no more." She picked up a tray and circulated around the shop, adding shells seemingly at random. When she returned, she presented a selection of sleek, streamlined shells in various dark colors. But the one Phantom instantly wanted was glossy black with three yellow racing stripes.

"This one?" Charon asked, pointing to it.

He nodded, speechless with excitement.

Charon bought the shell. "Come on, let's go home and put it on."

"Home!" Phantom danced around her. "We're going home! Our home! My home! Your home! No more cages!"

Charon walked along, smiling in pure bliss, as her ghost flew and flew, exulting in both his freedom and his Guardian. Oh, it felt good to have a ghost again. Especially a ghost she liked so very, very much. The pain inside her had decreased dramatically - after all, it was hard to feel sad when half her soul was singing and dancing.

When they reached her apartment, Charon had to hunt for her ghost maintenance toolkit, which she hadn't needed since Simon died. She finally found it shoved in the back of a bathroom cabinet.

As she stood up, she realized that not only was Phantom not with her, but he had gone quiet, with only flickers of dismay to indicate where he might be.

She had a hunch, and looked into her bedroom.

Phantom floated over Simon's old bed, staring at it, motionless.

"Phantom?"

He looked at her, his expression sad. Slowly he flew to her and took his spot over her shoulder. "You still have his bed," he said softly.

"So?" Charon said.

"So," Phantom said, "does that mean that you'll always want Simon more than me?"

Charon gently lifted him out of the air in her palm. He accepted her touch trustingly, gazing at her face.

"I loved Simon," she told him. "But he's gone. I'll always remember him, and I'll always miss him. That's how grief works. But I have room in my heart for you, too. I love you differently than I loved him, because you're so different. Also, I kept that bed because it was damn expensive. I was hoping you'd like it."

"I can give it a try," Phantom said, cheering up a little. "Thanks, Charon. I first saw it when I was transmatting your paints, and it's bothered me ever since."

"Oh, that's why you acted so weird that day in the hospital," Charon said, picking up the toolset and shell. "Come to the table, I need the light for this."

They chatted as she disassembled the new shell, and then carefully removed his old, scraped, ruined shell. Deep contentment filled them both. This was normal life, and being together made everything about it better.

The racing shell suited Phantom exactly. Once it was on, he shot around the room, then phased and reappeared in dark corners, pretending to stalk Charon.

She laughed as she put away her tools. "What is this, a license to be creepy?"

"I want to be good at it," he said, zipping under furniture. "I went to jail for it, so I might as well do what I was punished for, right?"

"Stalk me all you want, Phantom." Charon put everything away, then finally took off her armor and changed into civilian clothes. Phantom turned his back to give her a little privacy.

"Some stalker you are," Charon said, wrapping a scarf around her neck. She added a heavy cape with a hood, making her look like an off-duty Hunter. "Come on, hop in."

Phantom gleefully snuggled into her scarf inside the hood. "Now this is cozy," he told her. "Where are we going?"

"I need to find Guardian Jayesh and thank him," Charon said. "He set me straight on ghost bonds. Especially how you'd been my ghost all along, with or without the actual bond."

Phantom considered this as his Guardian headed out into the cold, snowy afternoon. "But ... how can that be? Your spark was still so shattered when we met."

"Unattached ghosts don't fall for someone and pretend to be their real ghost," Charon said. "Like following them into firefights and saving their lives."

"Your spark always did sing to me," Phantom admitted. "Even when when it was broken, and it sounded more like crying than singing."

She turned her head and kissed his shell. "I wish you'd told me."

"I couldn't," he said. "You weren't my Guardian yet, and there's certain things you just don't do if you're unbonded."

"Well, now you can tell me everything." She hesitated in the middle of the Tower walk. "Do you think you could find out where Guardian Jayesh is?"

"I can do that!" Phantom scanned the nearby Guardian ID tags. "He's down by the commercial district."

Charon walked that way. The falling snow was beginning to thin out, and here and there, people were shoveling snow off the walks and sprinkling salt. It crunched underfoot, providing traction.

As they walked by one such person, Phantom said, "That's him. Wait. Go back. Snow shovel, nine o'clock."

Charon turned in surprise. The nearest man shoveling snow wore civilian clothes, not warlock robes, with a scarf over his face and hair.

"Excuse me?" she said. "Guardian Jayesh?"

He straightened, resting his shovel in the snow, and pulled down his scarf. "Oh, hello there. Things working out with your ghost?"

"Very much," Charon said. "I wanted to thank you."

He grinned, his teeth very white. "No problem. No ghost should ever be in a cage, not even an unattached one. Besides, it was obvious how you were pining for each other. My ghost picked it up right off."

Charon didn't quite know how to reply to this, so she said, "Aren't you a Guardian? Why are you shoveling snow?"

Jayesh drew himself up in a salute. "For the good of the Vanguard!" Then he relaxed and grinned. "And my apartment's down this stairwell, and nobody ever shovels this part of the walk. I have mercenary motives."

Phantom flew out into the cold and floated in front of Jayesh. "Thank you," he said. When Jayesh's ghost appeared in his red and yellow shell, Phantom said, "And thank you, too. You were the only ghost ever to talk to me in that cage."

"I was?" said the other ghost. "Well, it was pretty shocking. I had to know why you were there."

"I'm free now!" Phantom twirled in midair. "And I have my Guardian. Thank you both."

He flew back to his nest in Charon's scarf. Charon bade Jayesh goodbye. She walked home, content to have Phantom close by, content to be a Guardian again, content to have her life back.

"Say, Phantom," she said. "What's your opinion of the Crucible?"

Phantom was silent a moment. Then he chuckled evilly. "I think we'd be an unstoppable death machine."

"Me too." Charon rubbed her hands together. "First thing tomorrow, I'm signing up."

Phantom's pure glee was music to her heart.

The end


End file.
